Light Shines Through
by TiTivillus
Summary: Sam had called out for Dean with his dying breath. Coda to 13x21 'Beat the Devil'. Brotherly Love. Protective!BigBrother Dean. Hurt/Comfort.


**Title:** Light Shines Through

 **Summary:** Sam had called out for Dean with his dying breath. Coda to 13x21 'Beat the Devil'. Brotherly Love. Protective!BigBrother Dean. Hurt/Comfort.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the show or the boys. Or the art.

 **Warning:** Rated Tfor graphic descriptions of violence, gore, death. Bad language. Spoilers up to 13x21.

* * *

 _"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." ~ Leonard Cohen_

* * *

Around the time of Sam's birthday, when he was still a rosy-cheeked, shiny-eyed toddler, his baby-like babbles of "ba ba-pa-ta-bi bi" morphed into something more speech-like.

The little guy was blurting out random sounds, but if you listened closely, you could tell changes in tone and intonation. The slight rise at the end of a string of babble nonsense, almost as though he was asking a question. The imperceptible mumble under his breath after Dean kissed him goodnight in his crib. The way he would look up at Dean with a wide, dimpled smile, making grabby hands at his older brother. It was all a precursor to speaking his first word. Soon their Dad and Dean started wondering what the magical word would be – "dada" only seemed logical with their mom being gone. But Sam picked another word, instead.

Dean should have been too young to understand the significance of a baby's first word, but somehow, even back then, something fierce and protective and warm nestled in his chest when baby Sammy opened his lips to say "Dean".

Maybe it was only fitting that Sam had used that very same word when he called out for Dean with his dying breath, thirty-five years later.

Call it protective instinct or hunter instinct or whatever, but Dean had known that something bad was about to happen in that alternative universe. He had felt it deep in his guts and he hadn't wanted for that 'something' to involve Sam. Not when his brother had finally found his way out of his depression. So taking Sam into this war zone? Hadn't exactly been on Dean's top priority list. He had wanted his brother out of harm's way. And now look where that got him.

Sam had called out for Dean before his jugular vein was ripped out of his throat along with a huge chunk of his flesh. Blood spurting everywhere, moldy darkness all around him, on his knees in the dirt and by the hands of a bloodsucker, that's how his brother got killed. No, not killed – _butchered._ Right before Dean's eyes.

Dean had been forced to watch those bastards slaughter his little brother, the brother he promised watching out for under any circumstances, _always._ Dean had been helpless to stop it, helpless to soothe Sam or comfort him or do anything to lessen his brother's pain in his last moments. ' _It's not even that bad, it's not even that bad, okay? I'm gonna patch you back up. You'll be good as new.'_

Dean had known that there was no chance for Sam to survive a wound this grave in the middle of this apocalypse world. They didn't have the supplies or the medical skill, nor did they have enough angel grace left to stop the bleeding or to magically make half of Sam's throat reappear. Dean knew that. But it wasn't what he chose to believe.

When he blasted the last vamp's head off with a close-distance head-shot, finally free to be at Sam's side, all he could think about was how they were going to get Sam out of there safely. They would build a litter or Cas would help him carry Sam out of here. They'd stop the bleeding and get him somewhere safe. Cas or Gabriel would fix the worst of the damage with whatever little remaining angel juice they had left. Those were the thoughts in Dean's scattered mind as he ran towards the tunnel these bastards had dragged his brother off to. He almost didn't see Cas until the angel blocked his path, looking up at Dean with a haggard expression.

"Sam," he panted. "Wha—"

"Dean. He's gone."

 _No._

Dean's heart roared up with a violent surge of protest, every fiber of him screaming in denial.

"No!" he spat out, shoving past the angel only to be whirled back again with an inhuman strength. Cas' was looking intently at him, grounding him in the here and now- in the unbearable truth that there was nothing they could do to save his brother.

"We don't have time," the angel bit out forcibly because he knew that Dean would never make out of that damn cave alive if he allowed him to go after Sam now. Dean would lose it if he saw what those vamps had done to his little brother. And he would never leave Sam behind with those blood-sucking scavengers if he'd see his broken body lying there all alone in the dark. So Cas had to stop him. Because the world was still about to go down and their mom and Jack were still out there somewhere. And that meant that they couldn't afford to drag around Sam's dead weight and that they couldn't afford to waste time. It meant that Dean needed to do what he came here to do and stop Michael. And only then, when all was said and done, he would be able to come back to Sam to get his body.

It reminded him of that of those damn werewolves in Grangeville a few years ago, of the way Sam's body had laid so still on the floorboards, head tilted to the side and chest soaked with blood. Dean had been in shock and denial, but once the realization had hit him, he'd wanted nothing more but to die, too. To put his own life down next to Sam's and meet his brother on the other side."They are coming," Corbin had hissed when the car of werewolves pulled up in the driveway and all Dean could think was 'good'. _"Let them come."_ He hadn't wanted to leave Sam back then, either. But he had needed to in order to save two civilians. For Dean, it may not have mattered if he died, but for those innocents his help meant everything. And now, with the whole world hanging in the balance, Dean needed to think of the greater good. Sam would have wanted it that way.

" _I'm gonna come back for you… I promise."_

"C'mon," Cas said, pulling on Dean's arm hard enough to jerk him out of his stupor. Cas tugged him along towards the cave's exit, while Dean's head was twisted, eyes still staring at the cave's tunnel where Sam was dragged off to.

 _'I'm sorry,'_ he thought, tears glistening in his eyes as he turned his gaze away from the darkness. _'I'm so sorry, Sammy. Sorry I couldn't protect you.'_

 _SPN_

The pictures were playing on endless repeat in Dean's mind as he trudged sightlessly through the deserted wasteland, Sam's words from the night before echoing hollowly through his weary soul and broken heart.

" _And if we die, we'll do that together, too."_ But then why was Dean's heart still stubbornly beating away in his chest? Then, why wasn't he back there in that damn cave alongside his brother, lying in a puddle of his own blood?

Dean had been so adamant about saving Jack and their mom, he'd thought about nothing else. But if he'd known that saving their mom would come at the cost of Sam's life. Dean wished to hell they never would have found this damn place.

"Dean," Cas' hand brushed against Dean's upper arm and Dean started, yanking his arm away from the angel's touch. He didn't look up at Cas, just kept walking, his vacant gaze fixed on the chaotic wilderness before him. Dean should have stayed by his brother's side until more bloodsuckers got lured in by the scent of blood and then he should have died, taking down as many of these bastards as possible. Screw heaven and hell and the damn apocalypse. Screw the whole fucking world. For once in his damn life, Dean should have done what he wanted - what he damn well _deserved_ \- and put his life down alongside his brother. But Cas didn't let him. And Dean hated himself for listening to the angel, every step he was taking away from that cave was deepening the cracks of his broken heart.

It felt wrong, no matter how right it was, to put the world above Sam on Dean's priority list.

"Dean. Look at me."

It took some conscious effort to turn around and meet Cas' eyes. Cas looked at him with a mix of empathy and determination. "I'm sorry for what happened, Dean. There was nothing I could have done... Once we find Mary and Jack, we can go back and get him."

Dean averted his eyes and picked up his pace, ignoring the angel. He was a man on a mission, now. He'd come here to finish what they'd come for because he didn't want for Sam's sacrifice to go to waste. He'd save their mom and Jack and hopefully the rest of the world, too, and then he'd find a way to bring Sam back or die trying. Because after _everything_ , Dean wasn't going to return to a universe that Sam wasn't wasn't part of. He refused to. He'd done enough for the world, saved enough people, fought enough battles, killed enough monsters. This one thing, this last thing - being with his brother again - where-the-fuck-ever - he wasn't going to give up for anybody.

"Dean, I know this is hard, but if this works out, you'll have a family to return to. People who love you," Cas went on like he didn't know them at all. Like he hadn't paid attention to who they really were. Did he not realize that it had never been about anyone else but Sam in Dean's life? That everyone, even Bobby and their Dad and their Mom they could eventually do without, but not each other? "Sam would have wanted for you to—"

"You don't _know_ what Sam would have wanted!" Dean snarled, suddenly enraged because how dare Cas insinuate that anything about this situation was the way his little brother would have wanted? Sam had died on his knees, in the mud, by a fucking vamp. He'd been scared and alone and it had been so violent - so _bloody._

 _'This will end bloody'_ he'd said all these months ago and Dean should have listened, god... he should have listened.

Poking a finger into Cas' chest, Dean's face turned into a sneer of anger. "My brother wanted a _normal_ life. He wanted to go to school and become a lawyer. He wanted to find a girl and get married and have a family of his own. And that's the happy ending he should have gotten, the one he deserved! This? Getting his throat ripped out by some dirty fang in the Twilight Zone? Trust me, that's not what he fucking wanted!"

Cas was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring. He was hurting, too, had lost a friend - a brother - too. But not in the way Dean had.

Never in the way Dean had.

Cas' kid was still out there somewhere, breathing and alive. But Dean's was in a cave about ten miles away from them, slaughtered and abandoned like no one cared enough to even just say goodbye. And Cas would _never_ understand what that felt like.

"Dean—"

"Let's keep going," Dean said dully, ending the conversation for them both. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted. They needed to finish this so they could get back to Sam's body and do something, _anything_ , to bring him back. Maybe there was still a way to bargain with Billie. Maybe she'd accept a two-in-one deal and take Dean along for the ride to the 'Empty'. She'd never been a fan of him, so Dean figured she'd accept without much protest, 'natural order' be screwed. Who knew - maybe one of the thousands of books in her shelf said 'Walks into the Empty willingly, just to be with his brother'.

At the very least, if nothing worked out, Dean would give Sam a proper hunter's funeral, surrounded by family and friends.

And then when the smoke had curled into the sky and the sun had gone down and everyone was too lost in their own grief over Sam's loss to notice, he'd sneak out to grab his shotgun, sit down on the Impala's hood and rest the barrel against the bottom of his chin.

 _'If we die, we'll do that together, too'_

'Yeah, Sammy,' Dean thought. 'Yeah, we will.'

 _SPN_

When they finally found Jack and Mary, Dean's relief was short-lived.

His joy of finding their mom alive and in one piece was overshadowed by insurmountable guilt and shame.

Just a few hours ago, Sammy had looked at him with that hopeful twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips, so happy at the thought of being reunited with Jack and Mary. And now he was gone, left behind, mangled and broken like unwanted baggage. Dean had failed to protect Sam - failed to give Sam a chance to connect with Mary like his brother had wanted to so badly. He had failed to do his job as a big brother, to fulfill his father's dying wish and the lifelong mantra of 'watch out for your little brother'. He had failed not only Sam, but his whole family and there was no excuse for that. Nothing he could say to make it better.

The hug was what did him in. When his mom pulled back with that wide, hopeful grin on her face - so similar to Sam's - Dean could no longer hold back tears. They rapidly filled his eyes and then spilled, painting tracks on his dirty cheeks as Mary's smile slowly died on her lips.

She was their _mom_. She had carried Sam in her womb, had given life to him. A part of Dean liked to think that she should have known. She should have damn well felt the connection snap like Dean did. But she had never been around to build that kind of bond with Sam. Dean had, though. And he felt the loss like an empty, dull Sammy-shaped hole in his chest.

"Where is Sam?" she asked, realization starting to dawn, expression quickly falling.

Dean opened his mouth, trying to explain, but no words made it past his lips. How could he tell Mary that she was never going to get a chance to see Sam again, to speak to him, to really get to know him as a person - as a son - and not just a hunter? How was he supposed to put Sam's loss into words, when it was all jagged pain and horrifying loneliness. When Mary was alive and Sam was not and not a thing felt right about any of it.

"I couldn't..." Dean choked out, sending a tear-filled look heavenwards and running a dirty palm over his mouth. "I'm _sorry._ "

The words weren't really meant for her but Dean needed to say them anyway.

 _'I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Sam.'_

More tears escaped and Dean hadn't waited his whole damn life to have his mom back, only to realize that she came at an insurmountable cost. A cost he had never been willing to pay. Not ever. Not for anyone.

Mary was close to tears herself, eyes swimming with tears when she cupped the side of Dean's face and stared at him like she could look right into his soul.

"It's okay," she whispered, her thumb gently swiped through the grime on his face. "It's gonna be okay, Dean."

Dean shook his head at her, unable to formulate words.

 _'No.'_

 _'No it won't.'_

 _SPN_

Dean didn't ask Cas if he could bring Sam back.

He knew that Cas would have done it if he had the necessary power to do so.

Dean also didn't ask Gabe to use his grace to heal Sam because the archangel was running low as it was and they needed whatever remaining power he had to fight Michael. Not that it would have been enough to bring Sam back from the dead in the first place.

So when the kid – Jack – started throwing a tantrum over Sam's death, Dean forced himself to leave because he couldn't stand to hear the broken grief and denial in the kid's voice. He couldn't stand to listen to all these things he wanted to say himself – couldn't stand to listen to someone they'd barely known for a month, fight for Sam's life while he himself was silent.

"He's not strong enough," Gabriel shot Jack's pleading down and Dean's heart splintered a bit more in his chest as all his fears were confirmed. And that right there, was why he hadn't asked and pleaded like Jack did now. Because sometimes it was best to leave things unsaid. Sometimes it was best to cling to the _unknown_ rather than to be faced with harsh reality– rather than to have your last flicker of hope crushed to death.

"If there was a way to bring him back, we would have done it," Cas finished coldly.

Dean grabbed his flask and stomped off, unable to stand there and listen to the conversation for even one more second.

They were talking about Sam like they'd written him off, completely. Past tense. Like there was no coming back to this. And maybe – just maybe, Dean had to accept that this time there really would be no chance to bring Sam back. That his brother was really dead this time. Gone for good.

But Dean had to make sure of that first before he threw his own life to the wolves like back in Grangeville only to find out that Sam wasn't really dead. This time, Dean would check Sam over thoroughly; try every book in the trick to get him back, before he joined Sam on the other side.

"Dean—" Mary said, tentatively reaching out to wrap her slender fingers around his wrist. Dean tensed at the touch, his expression hard and void of emotion as he focused on the task of filling his flask with fresh water.

He hadn't talked to Mary at all since the reunion. Hadn't even really looked her in the eyes. How could he face her after his failure to protect Sam? And more importantly, how could he tell her that she'd have to return to the 'real' world without him? Mary hadn't realized yet, that if Sam was really gone – if there was no way to bring him back – she'd lost two sons today and not just one.

"We gotta go back," Dean said with firm determination, not looking up to face her. "Get his body."

Get his body, check it over, carry it back to the real world, through the rift so Rowena – or hell, even Lucifer could work their magic. And then talk to Billie, if that didn't work. Anything to bring him back. It really had become a default mode with them.

Mary was following him like a shadow, she had hovered close ever since their reunion, trying to get him to talk, trying to grieve with him. But Dean wasn't ready for that. He couldn't allow himself to grieve for someone who wasn't going to stay dead. He hadn't asked her a single question, not even how she was, whether she was hurt. She was alive and for now, that was all that mattered. She was alive and Sam _wasn't_ and Dean had to get back to his brother. Now.

A siren went off, stopping them all in their tracks and something inside of Dean shifted and sparked at the sound of it. Adrenaline shot through his veins like a drug, heart rate picking up as something in the air noticeably shifted. He could feel it, just as clearly as he had felt the disconnect when Sam died earlier. He knew, even before Sam came staggering through the gates, even before his eyes caught the movement before he saw the blood-soaked flannel and jeans and the tousled mess of bloodied hair, what had happened.

Sam.

Sam was alive.

He had come back.

It was too good to be true, too good of a thing to ever happen to a Winchester and Dean couldn't trust his eyes, couldn't allow himself to feel anything past the fear and the grief and the disbelief pulsing through his body.

"Dean," Sam said, softly - wondrous - almost as if he was trying out the name for the very first time.

It had been the last thing he said before he died. The last call-out for help, for comfort before he was murdered. And in the darkest depths of Dean's heart, he had honestly, truly, believed that it might have been the last time he'd have heard Sam's voice in all of eternity.

Just like that, every trace of shock and horror and grief was replaced by warmth and relief and love. Before Dean knew it he was moving, stumbling, running, legs eating up the distance between them until he crushed Sam against his chest in a hug so fierce it nearly caused them both to fall over. He was shaking, fisting Sam's blood-soaked jacket until his knuckles turned white, vision blurred as he gripped his brother tight enough to cut off his air supply. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and just breathed in the imperceptible smell of familiarity and _home_ that was Sam. He felt the even beat of Sam's heart in synch with his own and slowly, the dull throb in his chest vanished. The Sammy-shaped hole in his heart, the one that would have killed him just as sure as the shrapnel of a shotgun, started to fill again.

"Sammy," Dean whispered the name like a prayer and buried his face in the crook of his brother's neck. " _Sam._ "

 _SPN_

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam whined, trying to swat at his brother's persistent fingers as Dean ran them fingers over the freshly-healed wound on his neck. There was so much blood, testifying how gruesome his death had been and Dean's hands were shaky as he assessed Sam's neck and chest, assuring himself that his brother was in one piece.

"He really is, you know?" Lucifer purred from where he was lurking in the back. "I put him back together like a ragdoll, Dean-o. Put his intestines back where they're supposed again. And let me tell you, it was a lot of work after what these bloodsuckers did to him."

Dean shot Lucifer a look that would have sent him running into the arms of his mother if he had one. But Lucifer seemed unfazed, giving Dean a wide, Cheshire grin. "I mean, someone had to make sure those blood-thirsty freaks didn't scavenge him for organs and you made it pretty clear that this someone wasn't gonna be you, didn't you, Dean?"

Dean saw red. He whirled around so fast, nobody saw it coming, grabbing Lucifer by the front of his shirt and slamming him up against a nearby brick wall, seething with rage. "Shut your goddamn mouth!" he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth as his eyes were ablaze with fire.

"Dean—" Cas tried to intervene, tugging on Dean's arm, but Dean shook him off, unfazed as he stared the archangel down.

"What is it, Dean? Can't bear the fact that the devil cares more about your brother than you do?"

And that was it; the words that made him flip. Lucifer never saw the punch coming, it hit him so hard his head snapped back with an audible noise and it felt good – so fucking good. Dean pulled back again, only to find himself restrained when he was met with an invisible force that stilled him mid-movement. It was inhuman power. The kind that they were often met with, often restrained by, whenever they encountered an angel or demon. But stronger.

Lucifer chuckled and lifted a hand to his bleeding nose, blood trickling down his chin and coating his teeth as his mouth widened into a lopsided grin. "You should be nicer to me, you know?" Lucifer leaned in to whisper in Dean's ear. "One snap of my finger and Sam's back to being worm fodder."

He actually snapped his fingers then and Dean's eyes went wide, heart stilling in his chest as dread and panic hit him like a tidal wave. He whirled around, only to find Sam alive and breathing, still coated in blood but otherwise fine. And then he realized Lucifer had only snapped his fingers to release the forcible hold on Dean. He had played him. And he was laughing at him, enjoying his power and the hold he had on them. It was all too fucking much to deal with.

Dean's heart was slamming wildly in his chest and now he couldn't stop thinking that once Lucifer had gotten what he wanted, he might really, actually, make true on his threat and release whatever spell he'd worked to revive Sam.

"Dean?" Sam asked, getting up from where Dean had sat him down earlier and reaching out to touch his brother like he'd reach out to a spooked animal.

Dean flinched back from the touch and left the hut they'd used for a momentary stake-out without as much as a glance back. His mind was racing, his breathing was too fast and there was a white noise in his ears that drowned out the world around him.

He made it a few meters before his knees hit the muddy ground with a lifeless thud and he was retching, forcing up whatever little he'd eaten in the past day or two.

It wasn't long after, that footsteps echoed through the woods.

Tears were coursing down Dean's face and he wiped at them almost hastily as he struggled to get back to his feet.

It wasn't Sam, but Mary who had followed him outside. She looked worried and empathetic when she held out a water bottle for him to rinse his mouth with. "You okay?" she asked, looking like death warmed over and Dean tried to remind himself that he wasn't the only one who'd lost family today.

He spat out a mouthful of water, trying to wash the rancid taste from his mouth and sniffed before giving a shaky nod. "Peachy."

"Maybe you should try to get some rest before the big show-down. Just an hour of sleep?" she offered almost hopefully, trying to make it sound like a good idea to rest in a war zone while the freaking devil was with your family. "It's been a long day."

"I'm fine," he shot her down with a decisive shake of his head because the very last thing he needed right now was sleep.

He wondered if Sam was simply too tired to follow him, or if he was mad because Dean had left him to die. Because Dean hadn't been there to protect him. Dean certainly wouldn't put it past him if he was angry for being left behind to get eaten. Hell, it was a goddamn miracle the kid was even still looking at Dean after all this.

Mary sighed. "Dean. What Lucifer said back there—"

"I said I was fine," Dean hissed and shoved past Mary.

He needed to clear his head.

 _SPN_

It was later when they were packing their gear to get to a group of rebels on the other side of town, that Sam came to talk to him.

Dean had been making himself scarce ever since his talk with Mary, keeping an eye on his family from afar, watching Sam closely to make sure his little brother was fine from a safe distance. Whenever Sam had looked up and met his eyes across, Dean had quickly averted his gaze, busying himself with something else.

That was until Sam had decided to put an end to their game of hide-and-seek.

"Hey," Sam said hesitantly as he trudged up to Dean and took up a stance beside him.

Dean didn't look up from his duffle as he methodically checked his guns and stuffed one after another in the bag like a soldier leaving for war. "Hey."

"I was looking for you," Sam said and Dean could hear a flicker of insecurity in his brother's voice, which was why he decided to look up, giving Sam a quick once-over.

His brother was still wearing his blood-drenched clothes, but the worst of the blood and grime had been washed from his neck and face. It made it easier to look at him and Dean knew that Sam had done it for Dean's sake, that he'd known instinctively where Dean's mind would go to whenever he saw the blood flecking Sam's skin.

Dean grabbed his duffle, fully intending to ignore the huge elephant in the room when Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Look, Dean, I know you're mad at me for making a deal with Lucifer," Sam said and it was so unexpected that Dean had a hard time catching up with the words. "I'm mad at myself for agreeing to it, but he didn't exactly leave me with a choice."

Dean looked into Sam's hazel eyes, into the light specks of brown in those ocean green depths and he couldn't believe the emotions he found swirling in there. The actual guilt his brother was feeling for accepting Lucifer's gift of raising him from the dead, of giving him his life back.

Trust Sammy to find guilt in something he neither chose nor have any influence over.

Staring at his brother in absolute disbelief, Dean's mouth opened but no words made it past his lips.

Sam, who seemed to get more and more distressed by Dean's silence, started babbling. "I'm _sorry,_ alright. I know I shouldn't have said yes, but he would have found his way back to the camp, with or without me and I—"

"Shut up," Dean cut his brother off harshly and Sam actually flinched back from the words. He looked at Dean wide-eyed and spooked, before catching his bottom lip with his teeth.

Dean dropped his duffle to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dirt and then ran a weary hand over his features. Only the two of them would manage to have a whole fucking heart-to-heart about two completely different things without noticing.

"Do you seriously think that I'm mad at you for coming back from the dead?" Dean asked incredulously, staring at his brother as if he'd lost his mind. He was quiet for a long moment before continuing in a shaky voice. "I was forced to watch as two vamps ripped a chunk of flesh out of your throat, Sam," Dean said slowly, just in case Sam had missed that part of the story. "I watched the blood spurt from your neck. I watched as these bastards dragged you off into the depths of that damn cave and there was _nothing_ I could do to stop it. I left you there to _get eaten_. I'm the son of a bitch that _left you to rot,_ Sam. And you think _I'm_ the one that's mad?"

Dean's voice cracked and his vision blurred and it sounded so much worse when he finally allowed himself to voice what he'd done, the gravity of what had happened. How could Sam even stand to look at him after all the ways in which Dean had failed him?

"Dean—" Sam started and suddenly his expression softened, his eyes becoming wide and round with empathy and warmth and forgiveness. Dean couldn't bear to look at them, didn't think he deserved any of Sam's kindness after what he'd done. "Dean, listen to me."

"No, _you_ listen! This was exactly why I didn't want you here, to begin with! This was everything I've ever tried to protect you from, our whole damn lives! You got _slaughtered_ back there You just up and fucking bled out in front of me and I had to leave you behind in that damn cave like- like _unwanted baggage_."

He was yelling now, giving five hours' worth of pent-up emotion a release. And Sam was shocked into silence as he watched Dean unravel.

"How's that for fucking 'together', huh?" Dean screamed, eyes flashing accusingly at his brother because how dare Sam leave him like this? "What was I supposed to do? Take your dead body for a free ride around the Twilight Zone? Get us all killed by dragging your dead weight along with me?"

"Dean—"

"I failed you, back there!" Dean continued, voice shaking with the depth and gravity of his heartache. "I couldn't protect you. I couldn't save you. I left you behind to get mauled by a nest of food-deprived bloodsuckers. I had to leave you _behind,_ Sam. How do you think that made me feel?"

After a while, Sam answered, his voice coming from deep within his chest, resonating through Dean's entire being. His eyes were kind and forgiving, not a trace of accusation or blame in them. "You did what you had to do, Dean. I understand."

Dean pressed his lips together, shaking his head in denial He took a step back, but Sam made one forward.

"I would have come back," Dean muttered quietly, almost as if to himself. "I would have come back for you."

"Hey," Sam broke him off, softly. "I know that, man. I _know_ , alright?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, Lucifer's mocking words from earlier echoing dully through his mind.

"I do care," he bit out viciously like he had to prove it to Sam, of all people. "More than any _damn_ thing in the world."

It took Sam a moment to catch up with what he was saying.

Then it hit him and his eyes turned glassy.

"Dean." Sam was careful to catch his older brother's gaze with his own, intense eyes, palms settling down on either shoulder to hold him at arm's length. "There was _nothing_ you could have done to save me, and so you carried on. That's not… it doesn't mean that you don't care. Do you really think I have any doubts about that? About how much you care about me?"

' _About how much you love me?'_

Dean wiped at his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain because all Dean had been able to think about, ever since they left that damn tunnel was that if there was even just one thing Sam had known before he died, then it was how much Dean had tried to do right by him, to protect him. How much he'd loved the kid, from the deepest bottom of his heart. And always would.

"Dude," Sam said and his voice was so hesitant, so soft. "You did what I would have wanted you to do. There were people left to be saved - Mom, Jack. The lives of innocents depended on you. I don't hold any of this against you, okay? How could I? I would have done the exact same thing."

Dean let the words wash over him like an absolution, slowly regaining control of his emotions as the tears started to dry and his breathing began to slow down.

"Okay?" Sam asked after a long moment and Dean heard the flicker of insecurity in his voice, could tell that Sam was still hesitant about where they were standing. "We good?"

Dean gave a shaky nod before picking his duffle back up.

He met Sam's gaze one last time and held it steadily, a whole conversation passing between them without a single word being uttered. And at that moment they were exactly on the same page, a hundred percent back to what they were before any of this happened.

"I'm done losing you," Dean said, voice still gruff but no longer breaking. He'd regained his composure, poker face slowly sliding back into place in preparation for the battle that yet was to come. "Whatever Michael or Lucifer, or anyone has in store of us, this was the last time I watched you die. I'm not gonna let it happen again."

The words were a promise and a threat at the same time.

Dean didn't care what it took to keep his family safe, but he would be damned if he spent even just one more second alive without Sam by his side. He had lost his brother one too many times.

Sam looked more disturbed by the words than relieved. But he didn't dare to disagree with Dean, knowing how important this was to his older brother. So he nodded his head, instead, offering up a shaky smile. "So, no more dying unless we go together?"

Dean slung his duffle over his shoulder and gave Sam a long, meaningful look.

"Yeah," he said and clapped a warm palm down around the base of Sam's neck, squeezing gently. "Sounds like a plan, Sammy."

Screw heaven and hell and the whole fucking universe.

They came in a package deal.

They'd leave this world together... or not at all.

 **The End.**

* * *

 _A/N: I was actually planning to take a break from writing when I saw the last episode and I desperately needed a fix of brotherly love :( I really, really hope you guys enjoyed this! Please let me know your thoughts and take a moment to drop me a line. Reviews make me happy!_


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